The Chronicle Historie of Perkin Warbeck A Strange Truth |
To my owne friend, Master Iohn Ford,
on his Iustifiable Poem of Perkin Warbeck
,
This Ode.
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![]() | The Chronicle Historie of Perkin Warbeck | ![]() |
To my owne friend, Master Iohn Ford, on his Iustifiable Poem of Perkin Warbeck , This Ode.
They, who doe know mee, know, that I(Vnskil'd to flatter)
Dare speake This Piece, in words, in matter,
A Worke: without the daunger of the Lye.
Beleeue mee (friend) the name of This, and Thee,
Will liue, your Storie:
Bookes may want Faith, or merit, glorie;
This, neither; without Iudgement's Lethargie.
When the Arts doate, then, some sicke Poet, may
Hope, that his penne
In new-staind-paper, can finde men
To roare, HE is The Wit's; His Noyse doth sway.
But such an Age cannot be know'n: for All,
E're that Time bee,
Must proue such Truth, mortalitie:
So (friend) thy honour stand's too fixt, to fall.
George Donne.
![]() | The Chronicle Historie of Perkin Warbeck | ![]() |